


Tradition

by Alania_Black



Series: 366 fics for 2016 [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco's POV, Implied Mpreg, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania_Black/pseuds/Alania_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are supposed to happen in a traditional way. Draco enjoys breaking tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8 of my attempt to write/post a fic every day of 2016.
> 
> Warning for language use, and some hints of mpreg.
> 
>  **Series note:**  
>  I am working on writing a fic every day of 2016, so I don't have time to re-edit each piece on the day (I have other things going on as well), however I have a strategy in place for editing the fics so there will be a polished version available soon. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you would not comment with typos and suchlike until I've published the edited version.

Fucking was traditionally supposed to happen at night, under the cover of moonlight. Soft touches, harder touches, deep penetration using darkness to blind the vision and increase the awareness of touch. It is perhaps this reason that he prefers fucking Longbottom during the day, the bright light shining into his dormitory (the dungeons are always dark and void of sunlight, hidden away just like the Gryffindors are exulted in their tower), allowing him to see every ripple and shudder as well as feel it. The decadence, he thinks, makes it more erotic, the chance to spread him out in bright light and fuck him properly, bringing up red marks and blushes on skin bathed in golden light (it makes him more of a Gryffindor, taking it bravely). 

He likes the idea of fucking him on this bed, draped in red, in this dormitory, high among the stars and sun (Their dorms are green and silver and painted with sinful snakes, as though they expect them to do sinful things in the beds). Another chance to get at the Gryfindors, even if they don’t know about it (Can’t know about it, or he’d lose this, and his reputation, and Longbottom could be hurt). They don’t that when they are out, doing their own things and leaving their little lion cub abandoned in their lair, he defiles him on their beds (defiles him and makes him special, breaks him to form him in an image of beauty and debauchery and his). Defiles their room, defies their principles and pride and _honour_. 

He would not be able to do this if they were protecting him, their weakest one. So starved for affection and attention that he even willingly spread his legs for Draco, mewling for him to make him feel special and wanted and cared for (Draco pretends he doesn’t but he does and so he returns, because he just wants to _feel_ , and Longbottom makes him feel such wonderful things). 

* * * * * 

He’d wanted to hurt him the first time, break him and fuck him and _leave_ him, shattered and alone. Until he’d gotten him naked and beneath him and the little lion cub had mewled and begged. Draco had realised then that Longbottom needed this as much as Draco did, was hurt in ways he didn’t think Gryffindors _could_ be hurt (violated emotionally and spiritually, leaving scars buried deeper than the skin and harder to cover). 

He’d been gentle then, remembering his own lost virginity and determined to _make_ Longbottom as whole and hale as Gryffindors should be so he could break it again (but like most things you build up with your own hands, he found he wanted to break him less and care for him more the longer this went on). 

* * * * *

When they were caught (and he’d expected they would be, because they were hardly careful) he’d expected Longbottom to turn on him, tear him apart as was a lion’s nature. But he didn’t, he bristled and protected him and turned against his pride for him. And somehow they weren’t ripped apart. The other Gryffindors welcomed him in, and Draco realised that he’d missed things while he’d been busy rebuilding Longbottom. 

He realised the cub had grown up (they all had to, but somehow he’d missed it in Longbottom). He realised he’d lost track of the other House rivalries and the Dark Lord, and was somehow on the _Light_ side (by default, he supposed, he’d certainly never volunteered for this). 

He realised that in rebuilding Longbottom, he’d also rebuilt himself. Or maybe Longbottom had, he wasn’t sure. He also realised, to his eternal horror and mortification, that they had _known_ , for some time probably, that he was fucking Longbottom. Their objections apparently had something to do with fucking him on Potter’s bed (they’d gotten round all the others by that point) and the “big brother” routine against any suitor (where were they when Neville was being hurt and abused and made to believe he was nothing but a useless squib who’d made his own parents insane?). 

* * * * *

Of course, after that Longbottom insisted on Draco fucking him at night or in abandoned classrooms like normal couples, until he remembered the Room of Requirement and once again they were free to fuck openly in daylight (a freedom that continued to their first flat, and then their house with huge open windows and creamy walls and no wards to protect against nonexistent Death Eaters). 

He also insisted that Draco would have to start calling him Neville eventually, since they’d been together for long enough (a few years now, in and out of Hogwarts) and everyone knew they were together. Draco said he’d only stop calling him Longbottom when Neville was no longer one. Neville seemed to take that as a marriage proposal (Draco didn’t know why, he’d never actually said the words “marry me” despite thinking them over and over again – the wedding band in his pocket was a mere coincidence). 

A few months later they were standing in front of more Gryffindors that Draco had seen at any gathering except Hogwarts, and more Slytherins than he expected (by the looks of Finnegan and Blaise, Weasley and Parkinson and Creevy and Goyle, he’d set a trend), pledging their lives together (Draco was doing it under protest, no one had asked him if he wanted to be there! He was in the husband role, though, and Neville was startlingly eager to take the Malfoy name, so he supposed they thought this was his suggestion). 

* * * * *

Several months, later Draco and Neville were announcing the impending birth of their first child (first of five, the second and fourth from Draco’s body). He pleaded ignorance of the procedure Neville had undertaken to get pregnant and sneered at every baby product (only Harry actually listened, to his horror, and he only sneered because they weren’t good enough for his child). Somehow, when the baby was born, he still got congratulated by all and sundry and treated like he was in love and happy and eager to be a father. 

Okay, so maybe he had purposely given Neville the impression he wanted to get married (he’s not so clumsy as to drop wedding rings at crucial moments and having to kneel and pick them up), and he did make the pregnancy potion (he’s a good Potions Maker, soon to be a Master, and no one told him who it was for, even if he did have an idea). And so maybe when they went to bed at night, and shagged in bright sunlight he murmured words of worship and love to Neville. He supposed it was a tradition of his house to marry the best witch or wizard available – and he did hold to some tradition. 


End file.
